


There Will Be No Survivors (Except for the Survivors Behind the Curtain, But Pay No Attention to Them)

by knightshade



Category: Princess Bride (1987)
Genre: Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-12-18
Updated: 2007-12-18
Packaged: 2018-01-25 05:36:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1634336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/knightshade/pseuds/knightshade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Westley wants to turn the Dread Pirate Roberts gig over to Inigo, but things aren't going quite as smoothly as he hoped.</p>
            </blockquote>





	There Will Be No Survivors (Except for the Survivors Behind the Curtain, But Pay No Attention to Them)

 

 

The _Revenge_ rocked slowly in the calm moonlight. Westley could feel the slap of the water against the hull through the wood of the quarterdeck. A part of him missed this - standing on his ship at night, watching moonlight slip through the crests and troughs, waiting for the next ship to plunder. The adrenaline, the salt air...being a _pirate_.

Another part of him just pined for Buttercup.

But he felt he owed it to Ryan and the others to give the Dread Pirate Roberts legacy to someone worthy of it. He couldn't let the name set sail into history. Not yet.

He had promised Buttercup he would be quick about turning over the _Revenge_ to Inigo, that he'd be gone no longer than a week, but already Westley could see that he was going to have to go back on his promise. The trouble was that Inigo just didn't seem as enthusiastic as Westley had expected. He was an expert swordsman and an accomplished sailor - piracy seemed a natural fit. But for some reason, Inigo attended to his duties aboard the _Revenge_ with all the vigor of flat ale.

Granted, they had spent the last few days on the more mundane points of piracy like proper cannon maintenance and how to rig the topsail without keel hauling oneself. Important tidbits to know, certainly, but not the most exciting enterprises. The only thing Westley hadn't asked Inigo to do was swab the decks (which would be remedied tomorrow - Westley was a firm believer that the captain of a ship should know how to do everything onboard properly). But Inigo's lack of excitement was still troubling.

Westley leaned over the railing, staring out at the water and the occasional curl of an eel passing through the surf. Perhaps instead of having Inigo swab the decks tomorrow, he should liven his training a bit.

* * *

"I'm very sorry, but I have captured your ship," Inigo said, his sword raised somewhat flaccidly. "If you don't mind, please turn over your bounty."

"That was ... polite," Westley said just before he caught the spray from a large wave in the face.

The sky was overcast, the sea was rough, and Westley was starting to rethink the wisdom of sitting in the _Revenge's_ dingy, lashed to the side of the quickly moving ship. Realism had its limits. He had felt that perhaps having someone to threaten to would give Inigo some pep. Unfortunately, such was not the case.

"Not that polite is bad," Westley continued, looking up at Inigo. "But I think it needs a little ... umph."

"Umph?"

"Yes. A sense of urgency. A visible threat."

Inigo sighed. "My sword is not enough?"

"Um..." Westley stood to grab the railing and haul himself back aboard. Since this wasn't working anyway, there was no point in letting his good black marauding shirt get white with salt water. He grabbed the fore ropes for the dingy while Inigo took his place at the aft ones. They hoisted the tiny boat back into the air and secured it.

That chore done, Westley gave Inigo an appraising look and was struck with inspiration. "Imagine that the ship is full of Count Rugens. Imagine they all had a hand in slaying your father. Imagine you've just run them to ground. Now what would you say?"

Inigo raised his sword and turned to look over the rail. "Hello! My name is Inigo Montoya. You killed my father. Prepare to die?"

'Die' curled up in a question and Westley sighed. "Yes. Okay. Now imagine that you aren't in the revenge business, but the pirate business. Tailor it to your current situation."

Inigo took his stance again, sword raised with a bit more mettle this time. "Hello! My name is Inigo Montoya. I've captured your ship. Prepare to die."

Westley nodded. "Good. Good. Except that you aren't Inigo Montoya."

"Oh. Right, right. Sorry."

"Not a problem. Try it again."

Inigo stood at the railing and this time he actually squared his shoulders and managed to put some gusto in his voice. "Hello! I am the Dread Pirate Roberts. I've captured your ship. Prepare to die."

"Better." But Westley rested his hand on rail and drummed the weathered wood with his fingertips."

"What? You are still not satisfied," Inigo said.

"Oh no, it's good."

Inigo cocked his head. "I can tell. You are holding something back."

"It's a good start. It's just that it's not very specific. You might want to tell them what to do rather than just threatening them straight out. Merchants have a tendency to be accommodating people. All that 'the customer is always right' training they get. If you're specific things tend to go better."

Once more over the edge, Inigo declared, "Hello! I am the Dread Pirate Roberts. I've captured your ship. Turn over your bounty!"

Westley grinned. Now they were finally getting somewhere. "That, I think, just might work."

Inigo's shoulders slumped. "And then what?"

Westley cocked an eyebrow wondering if perhaps he had done some permanent damage when he had clocked Inigo on the head to go after Vizzini. Or maybe it was a lingering effect of blood loss from his run in with Rugen. "Then they either turn over their goods, or you fight."

Inigo slid his sword into his scabbard and sank to the deck, a defeated look crowding his features. "I do not believe that I am cut out for piracy."

"What? I would think that your years in revenge would have prepared you perfectly. You've got all the skills. And you have to admit the pay is much better."

Inigo nodded. "It is just that piracy does not seem so noble."

"Noble? What's not noble? Sailing the high seas, playing cat and mouse with stuffy overfed merchants, boarding parties, hand to hand combat? What's not to love?"

"Attacking innocent merchants in this well-armed, well-crewed brig," he gestured up toward the _Revenge's_ main sail. "It does not seem so sporting. Like challenging an unarmed man to a duel."

Westley took a seat, leaning back against the mast and shook his head at his friend. "First of all, I'm not sure there is such a thing - innocent merchants. Have you ever met an honest used horse trader? You're more likely to find a living, breathing unicorn." Westley paused and pursed his lips. "Although, if you know where to look..."

"Really? You've seen a unicorn?"

"It's a long story for some other time." Westley flipped his hand casually. "But have you seen the schooners that most of the merchants are sailing these days? They put the _Revenge_ to shame, I assure you. And you won't think them over matched when they start shooting their cannons your direction."

Inigo smiled wanly. "There is also the matter of slaughter."

"Slaughter?" Now Westley was well and truly confused.

"Having spent my life trying to avenge my father's death at the hand of the Six Fingered Man, I am afraid I cannot stomach the idea of slaughtering men and leaving their children fatherless. I do not wish to become some other son's Count Rugen."

Westley lifted a brow.

"The Dread Pirate Roberts leaves no survivors."

"Oh!" The match finally struck. "That. Well. That's more of a catch phrase, really. A marketing scheme." But suddenly Inigo's ennui made infinitely more sense.

"There are survivors?" Inigo asked, sitting up straighter.

"Oh yes. Plenty of them. Enough to give you a headache some days. What with all their hero worship and the endless thank yous. It gets a little tiring, really." Westley cocked his head to the side and tsked. "You don't really take me for the type of pirate who slaughters people, do you?"

The first hint of a smile crinkled the corners of Inigo's mouth. "You do wear a mask..."

Westley rolled his eyes good naturedly. "Again with the mask."

Inigo absent-mindedly tapped his knee for a moment, obviously deep in thought, all levity gone again. "If what you say is true, why has no one ever heard of this? Surely if there were survivors they would have come forward by now."

"They can't."

"They can not come forward, but you did not slaughter them?"

"Oh no. Well, admittedly, the real Roberts was a little bloodthirsty, but being the first he had a reputation to create. Since then it's been up to the individual Roberts to determine how to handle the survivor question. Personally, I only kill those who fall well in battle. Those who surrender have nothing to fear."

"Then what do you do with them?"

"Have you ever heard of La Isla De Mucha Mucha Muerte?"

Inigo raised an eyebrow. "I take it you do not speak Spanish?"

Westley grinned. "More marketing. Or, anti-marketing you might say. The island is really quite beautiful. The name is just to keep away the guidebook toting tourists."

"I have never heard of it."

"It's west of both Guilder and Florin. Discovered by a drunk Italian trying to find India, if you can believe it."

"India? He was a ways off, eh?"

"Did I mention drunk?"

"Even I have never been _that_ drunk." He thought a moment. "He was Italian and yet he named it in Spanish?"

"He was working for the Spanish government. Explorer for hire."

"Oh," Inigo said, a puzzled expression on his face.

"Mercenary but different. Anyway, he was weaving all over the ocean and landed his ship squarely in the westerly currents which grounded him on the island. According to legend he didn't realize he had run aground until his supply of Chianti ran out. Reportedly it was another few months before it dawned on him that the island might not be India." Westley wasn't sure how much of that was true, but it certainly made for a good story. "Isla Muerte is quite isolated and sheltered. And what makes it so useful to pirates is that due to the strong currents surrounding it, you can't get back without help from the Sirens. We keep them well stocked in handsome young sailors -- strictly single ones, mind you -- so they don't let anyone off the island without permission from the Pirate Guild."

"There's a guild?"

"Oh, yes. Didn't I mention that?"

Inigo shook his head.

"The membership dues are a little high, but the perks are quite nice. And you want them covering your back if the brute squad ever hauls you off, believe me. But all the pirates in the Guild use the island. Or at least all the good ones. The Marauding Pirate Murphy and the Plundering Pirate Pete drop off at least a ship full of survivors a week."

Inigo scratched his head. "So you have imprisoned them?"

"Well. Technically, yes. But they don't see it that way for long. The first groups of survivors had it rough, I'll admit, but they quickly set up a thriving free market system. You can't let merchants out of your sight for a second and they're trying to buy or sell anything not bolted down."

"And the island is owned by Spain?" Inigo asked.

"Well, it was. But the king found them far too troublesome. They dumped some of his mead into one of the harbors and he finally threw up his hands. Told them they were on their own."

Inigo's eyes widened. "Then who governs them?"

"Oh, they govern themselves. Democracy." At Inigo's blank look, Westley shifted and draped his hand across his knee. "It's a system where they chose their own leaders."

"From a group of kings?"

"Oh no. No kings. Just ordinary, albeit ambitious, people."

"That does not seem like a wise idea."

"And letting any old inbred bastard with some claim to a bloodline is?"

Inigo shrugged. "You have a point." He rested his head back on the rail and stared up into the sails. "It must be nice to have leaders that the people choose themselves."

"You'd think so, but just because they choose them doesn't mean they like them. By the time elections roll around, the populace is generally looking for any excuse to throw the bums out."

Inigo crossed his arms over his knee. "But they are still not entirely free."

"Maybe not but it's really quite nice. I've been trying to convince Buttercup that Isla Muerte would make an excellent place for a summer home."

Inigo closed his eyes and Westley watched as he took in a deep breath of sea air. "I'm afraid I still cannot do it."

Westley was reaching the point of frustration. "Why not?"

"I cannot separate fathers from their wives, sons, and daughters."

"Never underestimate merchants when there's money to be made. Kidnapping is the oldest profession on Isla Muerte. Well, the second oldest anyway. It didn't take long for them to realize there was money to be made in 'kidnapping' the families of the new Muertens to bring them over. The more upscale rings will even pack up all the family's belongings, sort out their finances, and bring them to the island on private schooners. But for a standard 'recovery' a man who lands on the island penniless can work as a dishwasher or stable boy and have enough to bring his wife and kids over in just a few months."

"Hm." Inigo nodded slowly. "I shall have to consider this, Westley."

"Please do. I really would love to turn the _Revenge_ over to someone I feel comfortable with. Not to mention it would be nice to be able to come back and visit sometime."

Inigo nodded. "In the meantime, I assume you'd like the ropes coiled?"

"Actually, I was thinking you could clean the portholes this afternoon," he said with a grin.

"I hate doing portholes," Inigo grumbled.

"So do I."

* * *

Westley stretched out in his favorite chair in front of the fireplace, sipping rich black coffee from his favorite mug. "My sweet," he said, glancing up to where Buttercup was frowning at the table. "Is something wrong?"

She pursed her lips in a way that Westley found all too endearing. Then she folded the paper and brought him a section, her brow still furrowed. On the front page Westley instantly recognized the _Revenge_ streaking across Florin harbor, its sails full of air, its bow clouded in sea spray.

"It says that the Dread Pirate Roberts has started attacking the king's tax collection ships."

"Yes?"

"Why would he do that?"

"Probably because they carry a large quantity of gold coins, which are much easier to handle than goods. And the king's boats are typically manned by indentured servants or debtors."

Buttercup let out a sigh. "But isn't it dangerous to antagonize the king?"

"Perhaps."

"Then why would he do it?"

Westley smiled and picked up the paper. "I think Inigo's just trying to find a way to make piracy noble, my sweet. And besides, La Isla De Mucha Mucha Muerte is really quite lovely this time of year."

 

 

 


End file.
